


The Winner Takes It All

by maderi



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Choking, Come Eating, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Consensual Sex, Deepthroating, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Teasing, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maderi/pseuds/maderi
Summary: Victory comes in different packages, some are small, some are just there, while others explodes with a loud bang that leaves you boneless. Everyone knows that Bruce likes to win, but maybe, just maybe this once, Dick will have the last word.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89





	The Winner Takes It All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FleetSparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/gifts).



> I got the wonderful FleetSparrow in this year's DC Secret Santa event! Unfortunately, tumblr has locked my account as inappropriate, for reasons beyond me, for both adolescent and adult people. Ao3 became the answer though!
> 
> There wasn't much of a request to work with, so I did some research and this is a result of that. I really hope I didn't miss too badly and that you'll enjoy at least some aspect of it. 
> 
> Merry Christmas!

“So let me get this right,” Dick started, raising an eyebrow at Bruce. “If I do as you say for an hour, you’ll join us figure skating on Sunday? The entire day?”

“Yes,” Bruce’s uninterest voice said from behind the newspaper he was reading. 

“Sounds fake,” Jason helpfully chirps in. 

“It is a lie, Richard, do not fall for it,” Damian nods, crossing his arms behind his back in obvious disapproval of his father. 

“Timmy?” Dick asks the more reliable source for his insight, but much like his father, Tim can’t even find it in him to spare a second to glance up from his computer screen. 

“He’s telling the truth,” Tim informs without missing a beat of his furious typing. 

“How so?” Dick can’t help himself questioning Tim, it’s what they’re all raised to do. 

“His left nostril widens when he’s telling the truth,” Tim let’s slip, immediately stopping his typing and looking up from his screen when Bruce’s paper crumbles and the man in question leans forward. 

“How do you even know that? You weren’t even looking up from your screen,” Dick gapes indignantly. 

“I-I mean, he - uh... B?” Tim’s face is darkening rapidly. 

“No, go on. We’re all -dying- to hear about this tell of mine,” Bruce folds his hands on his lap as he leans back again, looking expectantly at Tim. 

“Well, I’m outta here. I know that look too well,” Jason salutes them as he bails out of the room. “Nice knowing ya, replacement bird!” 

“I believe I just hear Alfred call for help with the quail,” Damian lies expertly, never missing a beat as he too turns to leave. 

“That doesn’t even make any sense, Damian, you refuse to even touch meat!” Tim all but screams after his younger brother.  
“You were saying, Timothy,” Bruce reminds them, having crossed his legs and fingers in a manner that explained so much about Damian. 

“Leave him out of this, B, it’s me you’re after,” Dick says, crossing his own arms as he paces himself between Bruce and Tim. 

“I’ll take that as my cue then, thanks, big bird,” Tim smacks the top of his laptop shut and bails, leaving the two of them alone in the family room. 

“Okay, out with it, you dirty old shit,” Dick scowls, not falling for Bruce’s charade, “What do you want?”

“An hour,” Bruce replies, face as straight as ever, not letting up on his hidden agenda. 

“Without any limitations what so ever?” Dick adds. 

“That’s right,”

“Yeah, not happening. There are too many ways that could go wrong.” And for once, Bruce actually smiles, as if he’d counted on Dick running all the possibilities through his mind. 

“You’ll get to set the rules,” He finally says, uncurling from his pompous position in his chair. 

“And you’ll just follow them, just like that, is that it?” Bruce taught Dick a long time ago that if something sounded too good to be true, it usually was. 

“Just like that,” Bruce nods, however. 

“But it had to be sexual?” Dick eventually digs in, finding no point in walking around the salad any longer. 

“Of course,”

“So what you’re saying, is that you’re exchanging your precious time spent with your own children, for sex with me, so that I’ll be the bad guy if I say no,” Bruce’s shark-like smile is all the answer Dick needs. 

Rolling his eyes as he turns around, Dick knows that this is another game the two of them play, that if he were to say no, Bruce would still go with them on Sunday and more than that, big arms would wrap themselves around him with soft kisses of apologies Bruce had trouble saying out loud. Snuggling and Dick’s favorite foods would follow later that night before Bruce would let him hold him through the night, snuggled tightly to his side. 

“You are a wicked man, Mr. Wayne,” Dick bites, deciding to keep in character for the thrill of it. 

“That might be,” Bruce replies dryly, folding his paper nonchalantly on the side table before standing. “But you, my dear, are exquisite.” 

Oh, so he was in that mood today. Dick hides a grin behind a smug look, turning fully to face Bruce. If he so happened so shoot his hip out, that was all accidental. 

“Well, Mr. Wayne. Shall we sign the contract then?”

“Let us conduct this - business meeting elsewhere, Mr. Grayson. I believe my study would suffice?” Bruce, the little shit, smirks boyishly as he leads the way to his study, big hand leading Dick by the small of his back. 

“Now, where were we, Mr. Grayson?” Bruce purrs the moment the door to the study closes. 

“I believe I would need a pen to sign our contract, Mr. Wayne,” Dick purrs just as sweetly as he scoots up on Bruce’s desk. 

“I think my - pen - might be dry of ink, for the time being, it might need a little coaxing to write for you,” Bruce’s innocently packed wording almost drags a snort out of Dick, but he is nothing if not a good actor, so when Bruce presses in between his thighs, Dick gasps as if scandalized. 

“Why, Mr. Wayne,” He puts a firm hand on Bruce’s massive chest and pushes weakly, “Just what kind of business do you imagine I do with people of your status?”

“The right kind, Mr. Grayson, if you want my name on that contract,” Dick swears, if Bruce hadn’t been the good man that he knew him to be, he could have been the very worst of influential people. 

Sinking to his knees between Bruce’s tall frame and the massive wood of his desk, Dick steadies himself on Bruce’s thick thighs, slowly running his hands up towards his goal, already straining to be released from its confines. 

He doesn’t immediately go there though, instead, opting for teasing Bruce, running his hands up and down his big thighs, clumsily bumping into the twitching length. Bruce groans above him, pelvis pushing into ever which direction Dick’s hand is closest to gratification. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead on Bruce’s abdomen, ghosting warm breath’s over the obvious bulge to tease the older man.

Dick knows he’s playing dirty, but teasing Bruce’s self-restraint has always been a favorite pastime activity of his, it only changed tactics in the later years. When he eventually goes for the zipper, the sound is obnoxiously loud in the big room, it makes Dick pull even slower, forcing an inpatient huff from Bruce. 

Congratulating himself, Dick divides the flaps, revealing the dark-spotted silk underwear beneath. Where other men Bruce’s age stuck with boxers, Bruce had always been hellbent on wearing briefs, claiming it gave him something about flexibility and reach. Now though, the midnight blue silk was stained dark where Bruce’s erection had wept, marking a nice trail as it grew.

“Oh my, Mr. Wayne,” Dick looks up at Bruce through his thick, black eyelashes as he bites his lip just so, “It looks like your - pen - is leaking quite excessively.” 

“M-Maybe the nib needs some fondling?” Bruce all but gasps when Dick breathes wetly over the covered head of his member. 

It twitches and jumps, straining in vain to escape the smooth prison that holds it and only when Dick slowly, ever so slowly, pulls down the waistband, does it pop free, dragging lung fulls of fresh air as if it had been a drowning man. A few clear droplets escape the slit at the top, the sight making Dick’s mouth water. 

Swallowing loudly, Dick lets out another hot breath, the most air making the hairs on Bruce’s abdomen stand to attention and his length jumps excitedly. The heady scent of musk and salt reaches his nostrils and it’s all Dcik can do not to swallow Bruce down in one go. 

Poking his pink, soft tongue out between his barely parted lips, Dick lets the pliant muscle run over the weeping head, gathering the clear droplets and smiles lightly when the shaft tenses to meet his lips in a wet kiss. The stringy thread that stretches from his lips to the slit of Bruce’s head breaks tantalizingly slow as it retreats to join the rest on Dick’s parted lips. 

The deep, guttural groan that leaves Bruce’s throat vibrates through Dick’s entire body, pooling in the deep, dark depths of his abdomen where it explodes and flutters through his stomach to tickle his insides. Bruce is looking down at him, dark blue eyes all but swallowed by his pupils, full lips parted, nostrils spread wide as he sucks air into his lungs. 

Biting his pre-come stained lip, Dick moans, a long, outdrawn sound that has Bruce closing his eyes and biting his own bottom lip. The sight is exquisite, so rarely shared that Dick’s heart expands momentarily before it snaps back, punching another, much deeper and longing groan from his wet lips. 

It’s all the encouragement Bruce needs to hook his thumbs in the waistband of his slacks and underwear to pull them beneath his buttocks. His thighs are too big for them to slide down on their own, so Dick helps out, clumsy hands grabbing hold off and sliding the offending fabric down until they pool at Bruce’s feet. 

Dick opens his mouth wide, welcoming the fat freight-train headed for his tunnel. Bruce pushes in non-too gently, stretching Dick’s throat uncomfortably as he forces himself inside and then, with an audible sound, pops into Dick’s throat. Massive testicles rest against Dick’s chin, his nose rudely buried in neatly trimmed pubes as Bruce holds for five, ten and finally fifteen seconds before gently pulling all the way out. 

A big thumb caresses his rapidly bruising bottom lip, sliding gently in the spit slick residue before dipping inside to pin Dick’s tongue down, opening his mouth and throat for Bruce to inspect. The sight, or his pliant willingness to open up, must please Bruce as he groans deeply, shuffling his legs further apart. He’s taking a stand, Dick notes, and prepares for the rough ride he know is about to come. 

And sure enough, a few seconds later, Bruce’s thick length enters his mouth again, but this time when he slides down Dick’s throat, it’s not to hold still. Big hands clutch onto the sides of his head, anchoring themselves as Bruce starts thrusting wildly as a man possessed. Gurgling, squelching noises quickly fill the room, bouncing off of the walls to great them as if acting as a surround system. It only seems to spur Bruce on further as he tries to go deeper with every thrust. 

Bruce’s normally silent demeanor when they engage in semi-public entanglements has completely burst. Above him, Bruce is moaning and swearing like an Arkham guard, spitting dirty words that would send Jason into a cardiac arrest. The thought sent bubble of air up from Dick’s lungs as he chuckled, only to regret it a second later when the expansion allows Bruce to sink deeper. 

A filthy wet gurgle escapes him as Bruce holds very still, pressing Dick’s head into his abdomen, firmly impaling him on his erect member. Dick’s head is swimming with - with something, the heady sensation from lack of air making his nerves go highwire. He has half a second to realize what is happening before his imprisoned shaft jumps once, twice and then erupts spectacularly in his jeans. 

The little air still left in his lungs escapes in the form of a gravelly deep moan, vibrating through Bruce’s member that finally lets up and pulls back and out of Dick’s throat. One of Bruce’s hands lets go of Dick’s head, emerging in a deathly tight grip around his shaft, stroking furiously as he tips Dick’s head backward with his other. 

In the expanse of a few seconds, Bruce’s entire body tenses, his eyes going wide as they stare into Dick’s and then - then Bruce paints his face in a color that would mark Dick’s face for anyone to see. Rope after thick rope spurted from the slit, Bruce’s hips thrusting as if the force wasn’t already impressive enough. With a final stroke of his white-knuckled fist, Bruce sank down to sit as well as he could in Dick’s lap, knees spread to each side of his thighs. 

Dick had no idea how long they sat like that, time and space held no meaning to him as Bruce had brutally murdered him with the best orgasm of his entire life. It was odd for Bruce to be vulnerable for this long outside of their bedroom, but right now, Dick would take anything to feel the massive body of the love of his life surrounding him for just a little bit longer. 

Just a little bit longer came sooner than Dick would have hoped though. Bruce rises from his seat on Dick’s lap, bends over to pull his slacks open and freezes. Int the doorway, Jason’s gaping face stands, hand smacked over Damian’s scandalized looking face, the chessboard that belonged in Bruce’s study, the one they had been playing with earlier, creaking in his small fists. 

With as much dignity as he can muster, Bruce pulls his slacks up, fastening them in record time before facing the two intruders still staring shellshocked at them. Dick couldn’t muster the will to care where he sat slumped into the back of Bruce’s desk, head almost hanging off of his shoulder, the muscles fried for the time being. 

“Hey Dickie, you uh - you’ve got something on yer face,” Jason couldn’t help himself, Dick already knew the comment would come the moment he saw his younger brother. 

Snorting, Dick forces his eyes to look up, beyond Bruce’s anger stiff frame, and into Jason’s green orbs. Then he starts licking Bruce’s come off of his face. It doesn’t take long before all hell breaks loose in Wayne manor, but Dick feels too good, too smug, to care. 

He has no doubt he’ll hear about this later that night, would never hear the end of it for as long as he lived, but for those precious few seconds, the greatest blow ever made in the Wayne family was dealt by him. Chaos could wait for a little bit longer. 

For now, though, Dick had won...

~ The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and happy holidays!


End file.
